One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others
by MoreBonesPlz
Summary: My entry for the "Suspicious Minds" Bonesology 2016 summer hiatus challenge. Questions arise leading a number of the Jeffersonian staff to suspect one of their own is not like them in the most fundamental of ways.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _The Bonesology challenge: Have the entire lab/team suspect that one of their members is not human and is, in fact, an alien._

 _This is a 3-part story and is obviously AU and not meant to be taken too seriously. That said, hope you enjoy it._

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 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination.

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"Man, you are just not human!" Aubrey tossed aside the gaming joystick in disgust, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What can I say?" Oliver Wells responded pompously, without any hint of modesty. "I guess it just goes to prove that in addition to my indisputable intellectual prowess, I also have the superior manual dexterity and the hand-eye coordination you only wish you could emulate."

The two men sat in front of a 60-inch computer monitor reflecting the final scores from their recent battle to the death in the digital entertainment world of Aerial Attack. Scores that favored Oliver Wells much more than they favored James Aubrey. Scattered around their feet were the remnants of a day spent as willing slaves to the gaming industry – an empty pizza box, several bags that now only contained the salty residue of the chips that used to fill them, a couple partially eaten boxes of cookies, and the crumpled cans of soda used to wash such a dietary nightmare down.

"But, it makes no sense," protested Aubrey. "Just a couple months ago, you and Hodgins said you had just started playing the game. You weren't even a Level 5 yet. I'm a Level 50 pilot, with all red gear. Practically undefeatable. It should've taken you a lot longer than just a couple months to get anywhere close to my level, let alone getting to the point where you could whoop my ass as easily as this."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Oliver consoled patronizingly. "It wasn't _that_ easy. It took the entire day to do."

"What'd you do?" Aubrey leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned at Oliver. "Play the game every spare minute you had in the last few months, waiting for this opportunity? I thought you said you didn't have time to spend playing games. That between your classwork and your job at the lab, that you were too busy."

Oliver's smug smile put Aubrey's teeth on edge. "I guess when you're good, you're good and it just so happens that I am damn good." Oliver cuffed Aubrey on the shoulder as he laughed mockingly. "Just face it man, if it was up to you to save the earth from alien annihilation, the human race would be going down! They'd be just as extinct as dinosaurs in no time at all."

"Aaargggh!" Aubrey groaned in frustration as he stood up and started collecting the detritus left over from their gaming-fest. They had agreed to meet on relatively neutral territory for their Aerial Attack challenge rather than at one of their homes, so they were currently holed up in a seldom used conference room at the Jeffersonian. Oliver had brought his gaming console from home and plugged it into the lab's A/V system and Aubrey had brought his copy of the game cartridge.

Aubrey had initially offered to find a spot for them to play the game at the Hoover, but Oliver had acted really nervous at the prospect of visiting the FBI headquarters, so Aubrey backed off. Some people were just funny like that and at the time, he assumed kicking Oliver's ass in the game would be a cinch, so he'd been willing to give up any sense of home field advantage, figuring it really didn't matter whose work place they were at. Now, he was wondering if he'd been set up somehow. Monday morning, he was going to call Angela and see if she could figure out if Oliver had rigged the game somehow. Oliver would have to be a damned computer game cyborg to have advanced as much as he did in such a short time. Not even being a polymath explained how quickly his skills grew. Something about the situation simply felt a little hinky to Aubrey and after a couple of years working under the auspices of Seeley Booth, Aubrey had learned that it was usually best for an agent to trust his gut instincts.

He tossed a handful of debris into the trash can in the corner of the room, rescuing a last oreo from its package and popping it in his mouth. No point letting food go to waste. "Geez. I can't believe it's almost 1 o'clock in the morning. It's a good thing tomorrow's Sunday and I can sleep in, but Jessica's gonna be pissed at me for not even calling her to tell her goodnight. I really gotta get home."

Oliver snorted as he packed up the gaming console he'd brought with him. "Women. I often wonder - are they really worth the trouble?"

Aubrey quirked an eyebrow at Oliver. "Surely, you've been with enough women before to know the answer to that question. With a good one, the benefits totally outweigh the aggravations."

"What?" Oliver looked startled. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course." Oliver shrugged his shoulder, acting casual. "I mean, I totally understand that all species need to procreate and that that need sometimes drives individuals, especially men it seems, to exhibit behavioral patterns that are not completely rational, or in some cases are downright unhealthy, in order to satiate the desire for sexual intercourse, but, you know . . . once the sex is over. Women want to be held and cuddled and they expect you to say nice things to them. Physiologically, the human body typically needs to recharge after a coital engagement, but women expect the seduction to keep going on."

Aubrey slipped his jacket on over his shoulder and started heading for the door, shaking his head as he went and figuring he'd send Jessica a text once he got to his car and away from Oliver. "Man, if you're the type of guy who finishes the act and just rolls over to go to sleep, then it's no wonder you don't understand whether or not women are worth it. You're supposed to be such a genius, but when it comes to dealing with people, Angela's right, you're a clueless douche and if you somehow cheated in our game tonight, I will figure it out." Aubrey lifted his hand in a farewell gesture. "I'll see you around."

Oliver watched Aubrey walk down the hall towards the elevator that led to the parking garage and wondered exactly what he'd done to overplay his hand this time. Engaging in a competitive bout of video gaming coupled with trash-talking your opponent was supposed to help establish a bond of friendship between the participants, but his intuition was telling him that this time, the opposite effect had occurred. Agent Aubrey now appeared to be both annoyed with and suspicious of him, and that was not the outcome he'd hoped to achieve when he challenged Aubrey to a match.

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 **A/N:** _So, do you think Oliver could be an alien? Stay tuned to see what I decided …._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Thanks for the reviews, follows, or favorites for this little flight of fancy of mine. Chapter 2 got a little out of control so my 3-parter is now a 4-parter. So, let's dig deeper into the question – is Oliver, or isn't Oliver really human?_

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 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (09/29/2016)

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It was towards the end of the next week when Angela Montenegro stood beside her husband's wheelchair in his office discussing their upcoming plans with their son, Michael-Vincent, for the coming weekend. "He has a soccer game Saturday morning, but then his friend Jason invited him to go visit the Newseum downtown. Jason's dad offered to drive the boys. Do you want to go with them?"

"Sure, Ange. That sounds like fun. What're you going to be doing?"

"Eh, the usual life maintenance types of things – laundry, grocery shopping, things like that. Although, if both of you are occupied out of the house, I may try doing a little painting for a bit too."

Hodgins chuckled. "You got it, babe. We'll leave you –"

"Dr. Hodgins? . . . Dr. Hodgins?" he was cut-off by Daisy Wick's excited voice as she marched into his office, back ramrod straight, head held high with chin thrust forward, lips pursed together, and each step a deliberate and evenly paced placement of her feet. Her elbows were rigidly bent at a perfect 90-degree angle and in her hands, she held a silver tray with a specimen dish neatly centered in the middle. "Dr. Hodgins, I need you to analyze this sample right away and tell me what it is."

"Ooookay." Hodgins reached for the specimen dish and rolled over to where his equipment was, transferring the sample she'd brought into a format that would enable him perform his analysis and sticking it into his machine. "What am I looking at here, anyway?"

"I'd rather not say anything, yet. I do not want to bias your objective scientific findings."

Angela noticed how stiffly Daisy was holding herself, typically something the younger woman did when she was upset or emotionally distraught. "You okay there, Daisy? You seem kind of tense."

"I'm . . . I'm not entirely certain," Daisy responded and gave Angela a self-deprecating smile. "I will admit that I'm a little freaked out right now, but I know that my imagination sometimes runs away from me so I'm trying my best not to jump to any conclusions. I tried some of the deep breathing exercises that Lance taught me, but they only helped calm me a little bit . . . really just enough for me to come here and see Dr. Hodgins."

"Hmmm, what the . . ." Hodgins mumbled indistinctly to himself, frowning at his equipment as he pushed a few buttons and adjusted his dials. "That's odd . . . . . mmm, no . . . no . . . not that . . . doesn't make sense . . ."

Angela ignored her husband's grumblings, focusing on Daisy. "What caused you to become freaked out?"

"I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway. I'll tell you in a minute, after Dr. Hodgins gives us his findings."

A couple minutes later, Hodgins looked over at the two ladies, a perplexed frown on his face. "Where did this sample come from Daisy? I've never seen anything quite like it. For the most part, I'd classify it as a sample of blood, but it's not exactly consistent with human blood or any other animal I can identify immediately. There are a couple enzymes here that my state-of-the-art equipment doesn't seem to even recognize, which is very, very odd."

"Oh." Daisy collapsed into the nearest chair, her face suddenly going pale. She started breathing rapidly and fanning her hands in front of her face. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What do we do?"

Angela placed a palm on Daisy's shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. "How about we start with trying to calm down and you tell us where you got this sample and why it has you so freaked out."

Daisy took a deep breath, held it for a count of three, then slowly exhaled before giving Angela a weak smile. "Right. Yes. I'll tell you. Let's see, I was in Exam Room Number 2 with Dr. Wells. Dr. Brennan assigned us a task examining one of the sets of skeletal remains from limbo that the Jeffersonian recently acquired and documenting our observations. It's just a preliminary examination though. She'll study the remains herself after we're done and find whatever we might miss. She's so smart and thorough that way. No matter how hard we look, she always manages to find something we miss."

"Focus, Daisy." Hodgins interrupted. "We all know how good Dr. Brennan is, so get to the point."

"Right. Okay. So, I was standing on one side of the exam table and Dr. Wells was on the other. He was studying an anomaly on the deceased's tibia and he went to reach for a tool from a tray of assorted items, but he didn't look up from the tibia and he accidently bumped the tray, flipping it over. I think he must have instinctively tried to reach for the falling items without thinking about what he was doing and he caught a knife that was falling, by the blade. It stabbed his palm. He made a very strange noise, like a high-pitched gurgling growly-whimper sound, then cursed and dropped to his knees. I looked under the table from my side and he was holding his hand close to his chest, with his fist clenched and it looked like there was something oozing out slightly between his fingers, like blood, only it didn't _look_ like blood. Not really. The color was off. It looked more, I don't know, ginger-colored maybe. I asked if he needed any help and he snapped at me to stay away from him, then he grabbed the knife that cut him, jumped up, and ran from the room."

"Then what?" Hodgins prompted. "Are you saying this bizarre sample you brought me is from Oliver?"

"Yes. Exactly. When he stood up from his crouch, I saw a drop fall from his fist and splatter on the floor. I didn't mention it to him, but once he left, I went and studied the droplet and with a closer look, it definitely didn't seem normal to me. So, I collected what I could, and brought it to you. My first thought was that maybe he's sick and has some sort of secret illness we don't know about which affects the color of his hemoglobin, but then I started thinking . . . what if he's . . . you know . . ." she dropped her voice to a whisper, "different from us."

Angela snorted and rolled her eyes. "Daisy, we've all known that Oliver Wells was different from everyone else from the day we met him. Unfortunately, I don't think being an extreme douche-bag is a medical condition or I'd have forced him to get treatment long before now."

Daisy shook her head. "I don't mean the fact that he's a jerk. I mean . . . think about it . . . he's super intelligent, he fundamentally has no abilities to interact with other people, he has strange eating habits and is always snacking on something with a very high fat content yet he seem to metabolize it just fine, he emits a very subtle yet distinct odor – not really unpleasant per se, but something that always makes me think more of a wild animal than a person, and now we've discovered his blood is an atypical color which contains enzymes that even Hodgins' equipment can't identify. What if he's . . . not human?"

"His eating habits are no worse than Aubrey's," Hodgins interjected.

"That's true and Aubrey seems to metabolize his food just fine, too." Angela agreed. "So, are you suggesting Oliver is something paranormal, like a werewolf?"

Daisy frowned in concentration, nibbling at the tip of one fingernail. "I suppose that's a possibility, but I've always pictured werewolves as dark, brooding men having really buff bodies with lean, cut abdominal muscles, powerful arms, and a chest and back that taper in a nice, symmetrical 'V' shape down to a wonderfully squeezable tight posterior. Agent Booth would be a much closer match to my ideal of a werewolf than Oliver. No, I was thinking Oliver might be, you know, like an alien from another planet."

"Except aliens from other planets don't actually exist, Sweetie."

"I dunno, Ange. Don't be too quick to be so dismissive." Hodgins chimed in. "There's still an awful lot of unanswered questions and speculation about what really happened out at Area 51 in Nevada. There's no doubt in my mind that something went on out there that our government conspired to keep secret. That's probably the most famous cover-up, but there are so many other stories and reports of inexplicable events around the world that you really have to wonder what's real."

Daisy looked from Angela to Hodgins and back again. "What do I do? Am I supposed to go back out there and just . . . just pretend that everything is normal?"

Angela squatted in front of Daisy's chair and grasped her hands in her own. "Look, Daisy, I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for what's going on here that we just haven't thought of yet besides space aliens. But, for the sake of argument, even if Oliver were an alien from outer space, which I am not conceding is true yet, it's not like he's ever tried to eat anyone at the lab or control our minds or anything like that, so I'm sure you'll be perfectly safe. When Oliver ran out of the exam room to take care of his injury, he had to go somewhere he could take care of himself and the most logical place is the men's bathroom. Hodgins will go check out the men's room and see if he can find anything else suspicious."

"I will?"

"Yes, you will. In the meantime, you will need to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary has occurred, okay Daisy?"

"I'm not sure how to do that."

Angela studied Daisy for a minute until inspiration hit. "Pretend you're on an undercover assignment, like Brennan does occasionally with Booth. You know how much Brennan enjoys going undercover and you always enjoy the chance to be like Brennan, so . . . look for clues and look for evidence, but stay quiet about your suspicions for now." Angela was hoping Daisy wouldn't embarrass herself too much by claiming Oliver was an alien to all and sundry if Daisy pictured herself on a covert mission to discover the truth.

"Alternatively," Hodgins shrugged, "you can go tell Dr. Brennan that you refuse to work with Oliver anymore because you are convinced he is an alien from another planet. I'm sure she'd understand."

Daisy looked at Hodgins in horror realizing Dr. Brennan's reaction would likely be worse than anything Oliver might subject her to and definitely not _understanding_. "Pretend I'm undercover on a secret mission. Got it." With that, she jumped up and hustled out of the office, eyes nervously flicking to the left and right like she expected an attack at any minute.

"Poor girl." Angela's tone was compassionate. "I really wish Sweets was still around for her."

"Yeah. Me too. But, I gotta tell you Ange, there is something really, really weird about this sample she brought in here. I mean, it's definitely organic and comes from some sort of living creature, but it's not like anything I've ever seen before and you know, I've seen a lot of pretty obscure things. I'm gonna follow your earlier suggestion and go see if there's anything else I might find in the men's bathroom."

Based on Hodgins' serious reaction, Angela began to have actual doubts for the first time since the conversation started about her preconceived notions and to entertain the idea that maybe Oliver really wasn't what he seemed. "You're really confused about this one, aren't you? You really think Daisy might be on to something."

"I know you probably think I'm as crazy as Daisy, but I've said before that we'd be foolish to assume there isn't other intelligent life out there beyond the limits of our planet. You know how I am with things like this – I won't be able to rest until I figure out what those test results we got actually mean."

"Okay. I get it. I do think you're a little crazy, but I love you anyway. In order to show you my support, I'm going to call Agent Aubrey and ask him to run a background check on Oliver. He owes me a favor since he asked me to poke around in our computer system to see if Oliver messed with anything when they had their video game competition recently. I didn't find anything then, but maybe we should all be taking a closer look."

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 **A/N:** _Reviews, comments, wild speculations – all are welcomed!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _Thanks to those of you reading for sticking with me so far on this. I appreciate any feedback._

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 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (10/02/2016)

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Later that afternoon, Agent Aubrey made up an excuse to leave his office and head over to the Jeffersonian. Since they didn't have a current case, Booth looked at him a little skeptically, but didn't give him any grief. After all, Booth had been thinking of sneaking away early himself and was hoping to entice his wife to play hooky for the rest of the day too.

As Aubrey entered the Medico-Legal lab, he spotted Angela right outside of the entrance to Cam's office and headed that way.

"Hey, Angela. You got a sec?"

"Of course." She lowered her voice. "Is this about what I called you for earlier?"

When Angela had called Aubrey, she only told him that something had happened to make her and Hodgins curious about Oliver's background, asking Aubrey if he could use his resources to quietly run an under the table background check on Dr. Wells. She did NOT mention anything about Daisy's suspicion that Oliver might not be human. Angela considered herself an open-minded individual and, unlike her best friend, firmly believed there were mysteries in the universe that couldn't be explained with just facts and science alone, but there was a huge difference between believing in the abstract possibility of alien life forms and believing your co-worker was one.

Aubrey nodded in confirmation. "Yeah. I didn't think it should wait."

"So, what did you find?"

"Nothing, that's what. A whole lot of nothing, to be honest." Aubrey shook his head, perplexed. "Before taking his job here at the Jeffersonian, Dr. Oliver Wells never filed an income tax return, never visited a medical professional, and didn't have a registered phone number. Hell, he never even received a single speeding ticket as far as I can tell. That PhD and the handful of Master's degrees he supposedly has . . . the universities he claims to have received them from have no records of his ever attending their campuses. The man may be a brilliant, super-genius, polymath, who can ace complex video games in no time, but he didn't get his education where he said he did." He shrugged and tossed his head her way. "How about you? What did you find?"

"Me?" She gave him a crooked smile. "What makes you so sure that I checked him out too?"

"Oh, c'mon. Really, Angela?" Aubrey stood there with his hands on his hips, his jacket pushed out of the way. "I thought you and me played straight with each other. There's no way I'll believe that if you are suspicious enough about Oliver to ask me to run a background check on him that you wouldn't have done some digging on your own too. I know you better than that. I'd even bet dinner on it."

Angela chuckled. "Well, you'd win that bet. You're right. I did do some digging too and like you, I came back with essentially nothing. I don't know what's going on exactly, but I can't find any indication that Dr. Oliver Wells actually existed before he started working here."

"Oh, God. Please tell me I am not hearing what it sounds like I am overhearing you say," Cam's unhappy voice carried through the open door to her office as she injected herself into their conversation.

Angela and Aubrey exchanged guilty looks as Cam joined them in the doorway – they hadn't intended to share their information (or lack thereof) with Cam, not yet anyway. "Oh, hey . . . Cam," Angela stalled, waving an arm towards Aubrey. "We were just . . . I'm sure it's nothing . . . just, you know . . ."

"Listen people, I'm the head of this forensics lab and I need to know if there's a concern about one of our employees that could damage the credibility of the evidence we uncover. Every applicant that submits a resume for a job here is supposed to be vetted by the FBI before the applications even get to me. How can it be that neither one of you can find any information on one of our interns who made it through the initial screening process?"

"Umm . . ."

"Aaangiee!" They all turned at the sound of Hodgins excitedly calling to his wife from his ookey room. Ever since his paralysis, he tended to simply shout for her when he wanted her attention on something as opposed to tracking her down, the way he used to. With a resigned sigh, Angela headed that direction, knowing Aubrey and Cam would follow along behind her.

When she walked into the room, Hodgins looked up from his lab table. "Oh, good. You already told Cam and Aubrey what's going on."

"Actually, no. No, I did not."

"Told us what?" Cam asked, head swiveling between the married couple. "What the hell is going on folks?"

Over the last few hours, Hodgins had looked at the evidence and, as a scientist, was convinced there was definitely something abnormal and inhuman about Oliver. As a conspiracy theorist growing up under the influence of _Star Trek_ , he was certain aliens existed and was quite willing to accept the possibility that Oliver Wells could be one. So, when he responded, his tone was very matter-of-fact. "Oh, you know, just that we discovered that Oliver Wells is not really a human being."

"Jack . . ." Angela chastised him.

Playing innocent, he answered. "What?"

Cam's mouth hung slightly open in incredulity as she looked from Hodgins, to Angela, and back. "What are you trying to imply? That he's like . . . like . . . like a werewolf? Because as much as I may enjoy reading erotic stories about paranormal creatures like that in my down time, I don't actually believe they exist in our world."

Aubrey shook his head, mockery dripping off his tongue. "Nah. He can't be a werewolf, Cam. Wrong physique. A vampire maybe, with that pale complexion and those beady little eyes, or even a zombie, but no way he's a werewolf."

Hodgins just pressed his lips together at their dismissive attitudes. "Here. Come here and take a look at these results from an analysis of his blood." He had done as Angela suggested earlier and visited the men's bathroom. In the waste bin, he had found several soiled paper towels that Oliver must've used to clean himself up after his little accident. Collecting those, he now had lots of material to work with and had run several other tests, all of which indicated there was something really, really not normal about Dr. Wells. "What do you see?" he challenged, looking at Cam, one scientist to another.

Cam stepped forward and looked over his shoulder at the results displayed on his monitor. After a moment, she frowned. "That's odd . . . I've never seen anything quite like this before." She pointed her finger to one series of the data. "What is that?"

"Dunno. I haven't been able to identify it." Cam rattled off a half dozen different databases that they typically referenced when looking for information to help identify atypical results and Hodgins confirmed that he'd checked and double checked them all, assuring her he'd exhausted every resource he knew about trying to understand and explain what he was seeing.

"I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer to this," Aubrey started, "but, how'd you end up with a sample of Oliver's blood anyway? Do you run these types of tests on everyone you know? Because, if you do, I'm not sure that's exactly legal. Seems like an invasion of privacy and a definite violation of HIPPA laws."

"Dude, relax. We don't do this all the time, but in this instance, we had probable cause."

"It was Daisy. Our probable cause," Angela explained with an apologetic nod of her head. She then explained the encounter they'd had with the frequently over-enthusiastic intern that morning which started them down this path of exploration. "Now, Daisy is convinced Oliver is an alien from outer space."

"Hey, Daisy is not the only one," Hodgins admitted, defending her. "I'm pretty certain I've spent more time with Oliver Wells than the rest of you combined. I've always thought there was something not quite right about the guy, but, hey . . . he's into science and since I'm King of the Lab, we kinda bonded in a way. He calls me his brother from another mother, you know."

Cam clasped her hands together and brought them up in front of her mouth, a stance she often adopted while thinking through things. "Okay, let's summarize what it is that we actually know. We know that his blood matrix is atypical and contains some unidentified enzymes. We know that no one, except maybe Hodgins, has ever been able to do more than just barely tolerate the man. We know that the background information he provided us about where he went to school and what his real name is appears to be false, but we also know he's extremely intelligent and well informed, so he had to obtain a fairly extensive education somewhere. Issues to be concerned with, but not anything that indisputably points to an alien being. Is there anything else I'm missing?"

"Well . . . " Angela shifted from foot to foot, looking at Hodgins and biting her lip. "There was that other incident a few months ago when he shot Hodgins with a tranquilizer gun while they were trying to track down those coy-wolves. Remember that, hun? At the time, you told me you were almost certain that he shot you on purpose and then there were those things you hallucinated about while the drug was running through your system and you guys were alone in the woods. Remember them? What if . . . what if they weren't actually hallucinations? What if . . . if he _did_ deliberately shoot you so you wouldn't think that what you might see out there alone with him was truly real? So you'd doubt your memories and perceptions?"

"Huh." Hodgins paused, thinking back to what he could remember from that day. "It's possible, Ange. I mean, that tranquilizer at that dosage should've made me feel tired, a little disoriented, and unable to completely control my muscles, all of which it did, but it really isn't a hallucinogenic, so that part always confused me. What I saw that day makes more sense now, assuming he's an alien."

"Why? What'd you see?" asked Aubrey.

"Yes, tell us," implored Cam. "I don't recall ever hearing you mentioning having hallucinations that day."

Hodgins thought back to the afternoon he and Oliver were sent to the woods to track down the coy-wolves that had feasted on a body found in the woods and shared his recollections of that afternoon with Cam and Aubrey. Oliver had been reluctant to go, at first, but as they travelled out to the site, his increasing excitement had been almost palpable. The two men had driven to where the body of their victim had been discovered as their starting point in their search.

Shortly before shooting Hodgins, Oliver had been restless and seemed a little anxious even, but when Hodgins questioned him about how he was feeling, he'd just brushed it off, claiming he was hungry. However, as soon as the tranquilizer had kicked in on Hodgins making him feel a little loopy, Oliver started acting very strange. He'd sat down on the ground in the yoga lotus pose, closed his eyes, and started making some sort of chortling noise that a doped up Hodgins told him sounded like he was singing some sort of 1960s _do-do-bee-doo_ tune. Then, after a few minutes had passed, Oliver stripped off half his clothes, painted his body with dirt, and started making imitation wolf howls as he led Hodgins in the direction of where he thought the coy-wolves might be.

When they finally hooked up the computer and spoke to Angela for an update, she had been able to send them GPS coordinates for the victim's fit-step watch that was in the coy-wolf excrement, but amazingly, Oliver had already led them close enough to the location that they would've likely found it shortly after their call with Angela even if she hadn't been able to provide coordinates. Hodgins had joked with Oliver that his Master's Degree in Wildlife Ecology must've included coursework that taught him tracking skills as Oliver seemed to have an uncanny ability to track the animals, finding obscure signs that Hodgins would've not likely seen even without drugs in his system.

"That's consistent. Don't forget," Cam reminded them all, "during the very first case he ever worked on as in intern, he also tracked a pack of coyotes six miles from the crime scene to their den to recover the victim's head. The FBI had a full contingent of field agents searching for the head that had several hours head start over Oliver and they were nowhere close to finding it when Oliver did. Booth and Brennan claimed he was all covered in dirt when he showed up at the diner with the head in a bag for her too, so whatever ritual he performs when he's in the woods sounds to be some sort of routine for him."

Angela nudged Hodgins. "Tell them the rest of what you saw."

"There's more?" Aubrey asked.

"Yeah," Hodgins answered. "This is where I was sure I was hallucinating. See, when Oliver was running around without his shirt off and I was skipping along merrily behind him, making up songs for Angela, I couldn't help but see his back. Dude, it did not look like a normal back to me. His spine was raised, making it much more pronounced than a typical backbone and creating a ridge down the center of his back. Plus, he had this whole series of . . . of horizontal dimple-type depressions, each one about 2-inches long that covered his back, starting at his shoulders and covering his whole back. I didn't get a good look, I mean, I could barely focus, you know, but they made me think of some sort of large follicle." Hodgins bit down on his lip in concentration, trying to recall anything more. "The skin around each mark was discolored too . . . kind of a yellowish-brown tone that you might associate with a bad bruise when it's healing."

"When he told me all this a couple months ago, we just decided there must've been something in Jack's system from food he ate or a beverage he drank not long before he was shot that reacted oddly with the tranquilizer to create hallucinations, although we never did identify anything specific that could've caused the reaction," Angela explained.

"So, until someone can give me a better explanation," Hodgins snickered, "I'm sticking with the theory that Dr. Oliver Wells is an alien from another world, which, by the way, I for one am totally cool with."

"What do we do now?" Angela asked.

For whatever reason, all eyes shifted towards Aubrey. "Hey, don't look at me." He threw his hands up in front of him, like he was fending off an attack. "Scully and Mulder work in a different department of the FBI. This is outta my realm of expertise."

"No. No, I'm the boss and Oliver works for me . . ." Cam started before Angela interrupted her.

"Actually, he works for Brennan."

". . . who also works for me, so through the chain of command, Dr. Wells still indirectly works for me. Therefore, it falls on my shoulders to deal with this."

"What are you going to do?"

"Oh, I know," Hodgins volunteered. "I can build you a special cage reinforced with titanium and stainless steel alloys that we can use to trap him. Or, or, or even better, I can build a high powered stun gun that we can use to knock him out. Or, both if you want."

"Thank you, Dr. Hodgins, but no." Cam crossed her arms across her chest and took a deep breath. "No, I'm going to approach this the same way I would any other administrative complaint. I'm simply going to confront him about it."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Hmmm. What do you think will happen when Cam confronts him? Even though I've made up a few new facts along the way, I've tried to stay as true to canon as possible. Final chapter is almost complete._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _Final chapter. I struggled with this one quite a bit, writing and re-writing sections until I finally decided to just post the damn thing. Hope you enjoy it even though I am certain now that I will never be a sci-fi author._

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (10/22/2016)

* * *

Cam sat in her office, watching the minutes tick away on the clock, waiting until it was almost time for the interns to clock-out for the day. Luckily, Dr. Brennan had taken off a couple hours earlier that afternoon simply announcing that she was leaving early to spend the afternoon _alone_ with her husband. That was Dr. Brennan for you. No artifice, no game playing, no excuses. She may not have specifically said the words, but her smile and her demeanor left little doubt that Booth and Brennan were hooking up for some bare-skinned afternoon loving. Generally speaking, Cam preferred not to know the nitty-gritty details of what went on in her colleague's lives outside the lab. But, at this specific moment in time when she was faced with an upcoming confrontation with one of her employees to try and ascertain why some of the brightest minds in the country believed him to be an alien from another world, Cam felt a certain appreciation for Brennan's unapologetic straightforwardness and wished she could depend on all her employees to be so honest and forthcoming.

Finally, the clock showed ten minutes until quitting time. The work day was almost officially over and many of the Jeffersonian employees would be fleeing their offices shortly. Taking a deep breath, Cam stood up and left her office to find Dr. Wells, who should still be in Exam Room number 2, with Daisy Wick for at least a little bit longer. However, Daisy Wick was conspicuously absent when Cam walked into the room.

"Where's Ms. Wick?"

Oliver snorted, barely acknowledging Dr. Saroyan's entrance as he kept his focus on the bones laid out before him. "She was a mess after lunch. Even more high strung than usual. All jittery and anxious, constantly on the verge of hyperventilating. She yelped and jumped at every sound or motion. It was like she ingested a bad dose of methamphetamine or something she was strung so tight." Oliver frowned and shook his head, still not bothering to look up and address Cam directly. "I told her she was making me totally crazy and that if she didn't calm down, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions. She ran out of the room and I haven't seen her since. You need her for something?"

"Ah, no." Cam positioned herself on the opposite side of the exam table from Dr. Wells, but still stayed as close to the door as possible. She knew Aubrey was waiting in the hallway right outside, in case he was needed, which gave her at least some level of comfort. Plus, she had a small .22 caliber pistol tucked into her waistband at the small of her back. Just a precaution, but the ex-cop in her wouldn't let her walk into a potentially messy confrontation completely unarmed. She'd had the gun hidden in her office for years and this wasn't the first time she'd tucked it somewhere accessible when things in the lab got a little tense, but no one else knew it existed, not even Seeley. Crossing her arms, she told Oliver she had come looking for him.

"Me?" That finally got his attention and he looked up from the skeleton, frowning at her. "That's a rarity. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." The response was automatic, but immediately followed by a negative shaking of her head. "No. No, everything is not okay."

"All right. You know that makes absolutely no sense though, right?"

It was his arrogant, slightly condescending response and the accompanying look that said she was wasting his time that helped to straighten her spine. She looked directly at him and despite the somewhat bored expression he wore that implied she was keeping him from more important pursuits, she spoke in her best _I'm-the-boss_ tone. "Dr. Wells. It has come to my attention that there are some inconsistencies in your blo- . . . in your background." She changed her mind about what to say at the last moment, figuring it may not be the wisest move to start off this dialogue by challenging his core humanity. "Uh, specifically with respect to your transcripts from other universities."

Oliver stood up tall and lifted his chin, staring at her down his nose. "Inconsistencies? How so?"

"Oh, you know. The kind of inconsistencies that make it appear you don't really have a PhD and three master's degrees like you indicated on your original job application. That, maybe, you don't actually have any of those degrees you claimed to have earned."

"Are you doubting my intelligence and ability to perform my duties, Dr. Saroyan? Because, I assure you, my knowledge is vast, more so than you can comprehend, and my IQ is certainly higher than every human's that works here . . . well, with the possible exception of Dr. Brennan. Possible, I said. I'm not fully conceding that either. I believe that the Jeffersonian has benefited from the contributions of my work over the last few years so I don't understand the exact nature of your complaint. You should consider yourself lucky to have me."

Cam pursed her lips, nostrils flaring in annoyance with his superior attitude. "It's not solely a question of your intelligence and your capabilities. We looked into your background and you lied on your job application. That raises doubt and suspicion about every piece of evidence you've ever touched on any case this institution has allowed you to work on, potentially destroying the credibility of the Jeffersonian and jeopardizing the integrity of every investigation. Per Jeffersonian policy, that's a fire-able offense and unless you can provide me a reasonable explanation, then I'm going to have to ask you to collect whatever personal belongings you have here and take them with you when you leave this evening as you're no longer welcome to come back Dr. Wells, or whoever you are."

"Whoever I am?" Oliver stripped the examination gloves from his hands and tossed them angrily on the exam table, an unsanitary move that would have horrified Dr. Brennan had she been there to see it. "Just how much of a background check did you do, Cam?" He growled, moving towards the end of the exam table. A few more steps would put him on the same side as her and Cam instinctively stepped backwards, taking her further from the doorway.

"Enough. Enough to know that Oliver Wells does not really exist." She nervously stepped back again, placing one hand behind her like she was feeling for what might be at her back. "Enough to know that you are not what, er . . . I mean, _who_ . . . who, you say you are."

" _What_ I am?" Oliver narrowed his eyes at her and took another step in her direction. In the next instant, he brushed against the same tray of assorted items that he had upturned earlier in the day, the rattling sound of the tools causing him to freeze in place right as Cam whipped out a pistol from behind her and pointed it directly at him.

"Don't come any closer," she warned.

Hearing those words from out in the hallway was all the reason that Aubrey needed to make his presence known too, stepping into the doorway at Oliver's back, and brandishing his own weapon. "Let's just take it easy there, champ."

"Why?" Oliver asked. "Why start probing into my background now? What did I do?"

Cam opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, more than once. It was easy to challenge him on forging his transcripts, but she was finding it much more difficult to accuse him of being inhuman. She finally ended with a simple "It's complicated" as her eyes flickered to the tray of tools.

Following her eyes, Oliver gazed down at the tray and then opened and closed his fist – the fist of the hand he had wounded earlier that day as the pieces started to come together for him. "Daisy. It was Daisy, wasn't it?" He glanced at Aubrey briefly, then dismissed him and turned back to Cam. She didn't answer his question directly, but he could see the truth of it written on her face and he actually found himself chuckling softly. "Annoying, persistent Daisy Wick. It seems I underestimated her tenacity." He shook his head in amazement and stepped back to his side of the table, sitting down on the nearby stool with one foot planted on the ground and another casually raised up to rest on the rung of the chair and folded his hands loosely in his lap. "I bet she went to Hodgins, didn't she?" Sensing the tension had eased, both Aubrey and Cam lowered their weapons, but their eyes stayed locked on Oliver despite the fact that he no longer seemed threatening. "How much do you know?"

Cam shrugged her shoulders, bouncing her head slightly from side to side. "Mmm, probably somewhere between too much and not enough."

As ambiguous as that sounded, Oliver understood what she meant. They knew enough to understand he wasn't like them, but they didn't know exactly what he was. "So, what now?"

"Are you dangerous?" Aubrey asked pointedly.

Oliver frowned and shook his head. "I'm a scientist. Just a simple scientist. All I'm interested in is learning as many secrets of the universe as I can while I'm around to do so."

"Well, then." Cam stepped forward again, donning her administrative persona once more. "I think it's best if we simply just part ways. We'll spread the word that you had something personal that came up that required you to leave the program. Fewer unanswerable questions that way."

Oliver agreed. He knew as soon as he realized that they had become suspicious of his origins that his time here was over. He couldn't stay any longer even if they were willing to let him. He'd have to notify his earth-liaison tonight and, mostly likely, he'd be reassigned to a new post within a day or so. "Does Dr. Brennan know?"

"Good God, no," Cam exclaimed.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll gather my things and leave for the night, but I'd like to come by once more tomorrow and say farewell to her personally. Working with her these last couple years has been an unprecedented challenge and sparring with her has been surprisingly enjoyable, albeit a bit humbling at times."

"That should be fine, Dr. Wells. Just keep it brief, please."

* * *

It didn't take long for Oliver to collect his belongings. It's not like he had an office or any space like that which had accumulated stuff over the years. Like the other interns he worked with, he had been assigned a locker to place his things in while at the lab and his locker wasn't all that full. A change of clothes for those times when work got a bit too messy; a couple science fiction paperback novels about alien invasions that he'd found especially amusing to thumb through when he had some down time; a note from Angela Montenegro listing ten things he should try to improve about his personality. (Most people probably would've discarded the note for being offensive, but Oliver had kept it. It was, after all, the only note he'd ever actually received from a girl).

He placed these belongings in the duffel bag he used for carrying his extra outfits to and from work. Then, with a last look at the now empty locker, he swung the metal door closed and turned around to find a smiling Dr. Jack Hodgins sitting in his wheelchair, just a few feet away.

"So, Cam tossed you out, eh?"

Oliver snorted. "Yeah. You could say that."

"Is it true then?"

Oliver could read the nervous excitement on Hodgin's face as he battled between his desire and his fear to believe the unbelievable. Oliver couldn't simply confirm it though. He still didn't know exactly what they thought and he needed Hodgins to spell it out for him so he didn't unnecessarily give up additional information. "Is what true?"

Hodgins rolled his eyes at the evasive question. "You know, man. Is it true that you're a ' _visitor'_?" Hodgins used air quotes around the word. "Someone sent here from beyond our atmosphere? Even our galaxy? Or universe?"

"I'm not at liberty to say much, but it's true," Oliver confirmed, trusting that Hodgins' love for science and knowledge would prevent him from betraying Oliver's confidence. "I was not born or raised here on earth."

"Dude. That is so cool. Where are you from and why were you sent here?"

"It wouldn't do me any good to tell you where I'm from. It wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. But, I'm basically the equivalent of an anthropologist on my world too and I came here, as a scientist, to study and observe your culture. I was educated in the study of other species, their cultures, and their social behaviors. When I was offered the opportunity to come here and study with the most highly acclaimed anthropologist on the planet, it seemed like a perfect opportunity. Who better to learn from than someone with a similar field of expertise?" Oliver shrugged his shoulders and flung his duffle bag over one arm, preparing to leave. "You know, humans are very different than most species as you're much more driven by your emotional wants and desires than you are your physical demands and needs. It's been quite enlightening."

"Damn. I have so many questions, I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, save them, because I won't be able to answer most of them anyway."

"Will you be staying in D.C.?"

"Ha. I seriously doubt it. I'll have to get in touch with my handler when I get home tonight to decide what's next, but I don't expect I'll be allowed to stay on this planet, let alone this city."

"Right. That's too bad, but I get it, man." Hodgins spun his wheelchair around and started down the corridor, side by side with Oliver. "Hey, can you at least tell me one thing? It's been driving me crazy. Can you tell me whether I was hallucinating that day you shot me with the tranquilizer gun or is your back seriously different than mine?"

Oliver thought about it for a moment and figured it wouldn't hurt to reveal a little bit about the physiology of his species to Dr. Hodgins. It's not like he was leaving any proof behind and other than a small handful of their colleagues, no one would believe him anyway if he started trying to tell folks.

"Considering our two species literally evolved worlds apart, there are a lot of similarities between us and only a few differences. Physically, the biggest distinction seems to be that my species grows something similar to armor plated shingles on our backs for protection. The best way I can think of to describe it is to compare the shingles to human fingernails. They're larger in size, but similar in cell structure. Plus, they grow, fall out, and grow back again. As part of traveling to earth, I had to undergo a process where all my shingles were plucked, not unlike how a woman might pluck her eyebrows, then I've been taking a hormonal supplement daily to keep them from growing back. Once I leave earth and discontinue the supplement, my shingle-plating will grow back, although it will likely take several months to come back fully."

"Man, that is so awesome." Hodgins chuckled. "You know, it's lucky for you that I'm in this wheelchair or else I'd be sorely tempted to conk you on the head and drag you back to my lab so I could study everything about you." He said it as joke and he meant it as a joke, but both men knew that there was also a kernel of truth embedded in his comments too. "Any other significant physical differences?"

Oliver's mind flickered briefly to the differences in their reproductive organs. The males of his species were structured very similar to human males anatomically, but the females varied a bit more drastically. Those variations meant that there was no evolutionary requirement for the males of his society to be quite as well-endowed as the average human male. Oliver had learned quickly the import human men placed on penis size and the need for discretion at the men's urinals when someone had laughingly referred to him as being the wanker of Wee Willie Wonka. He decided Hodgins didn't really need to know about that difference though. "No. Nothing else significant."

Once the men reached the front doors of the lab, they shook hands and said their farewells.

Dr. Oliver Wells stood on the sidewalk, outside the doors to the Jeffersonian Institute, gazing back at the structure where he had spent many of his waking hours in the last few years thinking about all that had occurred since he'd arrived.

The most surprising part of his excursion here on earth was experiencing what people called _humanity_. Warmth, kindness, friendship and caring. His colleagues may have mocked and teased him for being unlikable, but they'd also welcomed him, encouraged him, laughed with him, and generally made him feel like he had a place of belonging with them. Especially Dr. Temperance Brennan. She might not seem to enjoy his company and she often appeared to find their continual rivalry tedious, but, nonetheless, she didn't stint on sharing her knowledge with him and she put forth just as much effort in mentoring him as she did any of her other interns. It was obvious to anyone who observed that she would protect, defend, and champion those individuals who she embraced as being part of "her team" and somewhere along the way, Oliver had felt that bubble of belonging extend to include him too. He knew that once he left, he would miss her the most. Now, however, it was time to say goodbye.

* * *

The next evening, Booth wandered out of the hallway at his home after double-checking on the kids to make sure they were still sleeping soundly and found his wife sitting silently on the couch, watching the wine swirl around gently in her glass. It was unusual to see her sitting so still, looking pensive. Usually, when she wasn't up and doing something, she'd be sitting with a book or magazine in her hands or working on her laptop. He sat down right beside her and plucked the glass from her hands, setting it aside on the coffee table before distracting her with a gentle kiss. Once he felt her start to relax, he pulled back. "What's troubling you tonight, Bones?"

"Dr. Wells came by my office this morning to tell me farewell. I don't think he's planning to come back."

"Oh yeah?" Booth twirled a lock of her auburn hair around his finger, watching the silky strand slide across his skin, a sight that he never tired of. "I would've thought that would make you happy and not have you frowning at your drink. The guy's a jerk and he irritates the hell out of you so we ought to be grabbing the tequila bottle and doing shots in celebration."

"He's not a very pleasant person, I admit, but he _was_ one of my interns – a student studying under my direct influence. His leaving early, pulling out of the program . . ." she scrunched up her face in distaste, ". . . it feels as though somehow I've failed him."

"Nah, Bones. It's not you. Whatever his issues are, I guarantee it's not because of you. It does seem kinda sudden though."

"I agree. It doesn't make sense either. He's made significant progress towards obtaining his PhD in forensic anthropology, so why would he just up and abandon it? Even though he told me this morning that he thoroughly enjoyed his time working at the Jeffersonian and that he'd been intellectually challenged more than he had anticipated, I can't help the lingering sense that there's some key thing I've missed that led to his decision to leave without actually completing his dissertation."

Booth pulled her into his chest, draping an arm over her shoulder so she could snuggle up against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He reached for her glass of wine and drank a swallow before handing it back to her. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No." She paused. "Well, not really."

"What do you mean _not really_? Either he told you or he didn't."

Brennan huffed. "When I enquired where he was headed next, the answer he gave me was not credible. I believe he was just trying to hornswoggle me, one last time, before he left."

"Hornswoggle?" Booth chuckled. "Who the hell says hornswoggle anyway?"

Brennan jabbed him gently in the stomach with her elbow as a reprimand for teasing her. "You know what I mean, Booth. Ever since he started working at the Jeffersonian, he has constantly tried to make me question my beliefs and doubt my intelligence. His response to my question about his future intentions was just more of the same."

"Why do you think that?" Booth grinned. He actually found it kind of amusing the way Dr. Wells seemed to be able to needle his wife so effectively. "What did he say?"

Brennan studied her glass of wine for a moment, then took a sip before responding. "If you really must know," she sighed, "he told me he was being reassigned to work on an asteroid mining settlement."

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THE END

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 **A/N:** _Well, hope you all enjoyed this little challenge response. I debated pretty hard with myself just how to eliminate Oliver at the end and hope the approach I took wasn't too anti-climactic and provided at least a little humor. Turns out, I don't really like to write being mean and I'm not a hater of the character on the show. He's not my favorite intern and I find him annoying at times, but I like that he's colorful in his own way and I like that the showrunners aren't afraid to give us a character we're not intended to like. As always, reviews are welcomed._


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